8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Craggy's
“Where are we going?” Violet asked as she watched, spellbound by the views from the passenger-side window. The mountainous terrain was rugged and wildly beautiful, and it stunned her how the lochs would run parallel to the car.
“I’m taking ye to one of my favourite places to get a proper Scott's breakfast.” He glanced at her. “Ye must be starving.”
“Yep, pretty sure I could eat one of those highland coo’s,” she teased, drawing out the O to mimic the Scots accent.
They drove past a handful of copper furry cows grazing in a pasture beside the narrow road, which was no wider than a Canadian back alley.
He chuckled. “Well, that’s no’ exactly the breakfast I had in mind fer us. Hopefully, a little haggis and black pudding will suffice.”
“Eew.” Violet made a face.
He looked at her, mock offended. “Eew? Did ye just say eew ? Och, lassie, if yer gonna live in Scotland, ye better get used to a wee bit o’ haggis.”
She laughed. “We’ll see.”
“Have ye ever tried it, then?”
“Haggis?” She raised her brows and then got distracted by a car that passed them so closely that Lachlan could have reached out and high-five'd them.
“Aye, or black pudding?” he said, clearly not the least concerned about how close the cars drove to his.
“Nope, can't say I've tried any of that,” she admitted. “But who would eat something called black pudding ? I have a feeling it’s not a dark chocolate dessert.”
His rumbling laugh tickled down her spine. “Och, God, no, not even close!”
“Well, what is it then?” She eyed him suspiciously.
He glanced toward her, giving her a flash of his blue eyes. “How about you try it first, and then we’ll chat about what it is?”
“Oh, that sounds promising. Sign me up for mystery pudding.” She intoned, to which Lachlan chuckled again.
They drove in companionable silence. Violet watched the scenery go by, sneaking glances at Lachlan's profile every now and then.
The safe, vanilla Violet she had been before deciding to shake up her mundane existence and move to Scotland would have given her a stern talking-to for going off with a virtual stranger. It was funny that she didn't know anything about Lachlan aside from his impeccable taste in clothes and cars, but she did know that he was a very good man. The kind who helped old ladies cross the road and rescued women and then looked after them, apparently. All that, and he was easy on the eyes. What world had she found herself in? Not the worst company to have here in Scotland , she thought, appreciating the pronounced point of his Adam's apple so masculine above his crisp white shirt collar.
Craggy’s, aptly named, sat perched on a craggy part of a hillside that overlooked the sea. The ocean stretched itself to the sky where she could barely tell where one met the other. It was so vast that Violet’s heart squeezed. In her twenty-nine years on this planet, she'd seen the ocean for the first time just two days ago—from the plane—and now it surrounded her in all it's breathtaking expanse.
The inside of Craggy’s was cozy and quaint. Sea-farer paraphernalia from years gone by adorned the white-paneled walls. A large stone fireplace with low, rugged old wood beams added to the charm of the old place. The best part was how delicious it smelled inside, like a breakfast bouquet of pancakes, bacon, toast, and coffee. It gave her hope for the black pudding.
Lachlan led them to one of the plaid-covered booth seats near large windows overlooking the sea. Violet slid into the seat opposite Lachlan. They’d only just sat down when an older, portly man with thick white hair and kind, crinkly eyes put his meaty hand down on Lachlan’s shoulder.
“Lachlan, laddie, it’s been an age! How’s yer mam and da then?”
Lachlan patted his hand. “Aye, they’re well. Always fussin’ each other, but they’re good. Mam, just got back from a trip to Portugal with the ladies.”
“Och, aye, aye. Portugal’s lovely this time of year.”
Violet sat back, thoroughly enjoying their easy banter.
“And who’s this lovely lassie then?” The light-hearted man turned his attention to her.
“This is Violet. Violet, meet Robbie, owner of Craggy’s and chef extraordinaire.”
“Och, aye, owner, no’ sure ’bout chef and all that, but I do make the best haggis in all of Argyle. Can I tempt ye, lassie?”
It took Violet a moment to comprehend what Robbie said because his accent was so thick. “Well, I suppose when in Rome…” Violet smiled lightly, a little nervous to try haggis.
“Och, American,” Robbie said as more of a statement.
“Canadian,” Violet corrected. She’d been asked the same question her first night here when she ordered takeout from a little café near her Airbnb. She supposed it was a common assumption.
“Och, right, right. Canadian. I huv a cousin that lives out in Toronto. I’ve always meant to go myself, but I cannae seem to get away from this place.” He grinned.
Violet sensed he was completely content right where he was.
“Maybe one day.” She smiled at him.
“Aye, one day. And just so ye ken, lassie. Yer not even close to Rome.”
Violet giggled, and Robbie winked at her.
“Aside from the haggis, what else ken I git the two of ye for yer dining pleasures this fine morning?”
“We’ll take two of yer famous Scots breakfasts,” Lachlan said.
Violet wondered how often he came here for one of these breakfasts. Craggy’s looked to be a favourite spot for the locals. She could hear the din of Scottish accents. There was something that charmed her about the small-town feel here.
“Aye, good choice, laddie.” Robbie grinned, and his eyes twinkled as he whipped the drying towel he’d been holding over his shoulder. “We’ll huv it out to ye in a wee shake of a lamb’s tail. Lovely to meet ye, lassie,” he said as he turned to mosey on back to the kitchen.
“Nice to meet you too,” Violet called out.
Robbie lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Violet turned back to Lachlan, who was watching her with those cerulean blue eyes, making her pulse kick up a notch.
“So I suppose breakfast includes the dark pudding too?” she asked, reluctantly.
Lachlan chuckled. “It's called black pudding, lassie, and aye, it does.”
Violet eyed him skeptically. “Great.”
“I can hear the excitement in yer voice,” he teased.
“Mmhm,” she muttered, leaning her elbow on the table and shoving a hand under her chin.
“I dinnae realize ye were Canadian. I also assumed ye were American. I huvnae been to Canada, but I’ve always wanted to go.”
“You should go.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “I grew up in cottage country, north of Toronto.”
“That sounds rather idyllic.”
“It is very beautiful. It reminds me a bit of here.” She nodded toward the window, looking out. “Lots of vast greenery. And lakes. But you also have the ocean right there, and I think you have more sheep.” She grinned. Her best friend, Sierra, had told her that there were more sheep in Scotland than stars in the sky, and now, after the thirty-minute drive to Craggy's, Violet thought she might be right.
“Aye.” Lachlan’s lips lifted into his crooked smile.
Her heart stuttered.
“So what brought ye to Scotland? I assume it wasnae our sheep population.”
Violet chuckled and looked up at the ceiling before blowing out a breath. Here she was, in Scotland, and even now, her parent’s disapproval nagged at her. Everyone in her life seemed to have an opinion on her dreams. And what she should and shouldn’t be doing with her life. The only person who supported her unconditionally was Sierra, who was currently traveling the world. Violet hesitated to talk about it.
“That’s also a long story.”
Lachlan’s eyes were fixed upon her. “And now ye huv me even more intrigued.”
Violet sat back, assessing the handsome man before her. She didn’t know much about him, but she knew he was kind-hearted. Something told her that he wouldn’t judge her as harshly as everyone else did.
She shrugged. “I think the movie Braveheart did it.”
Lachlan’s eyes lit with humour. “Not Outlander ?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. That too.” She laughed. “Scotland just always seemed like this mythical, magical place. And my favourite drink is scotch, so I figured I should come to the source.”
He threw her a raised brow, “Aye, we are known for our mythical legends, but even more for our whisky. But why move here, why not just visit?”
“Right, that.” Violet felt a familiar trickle of nerves at explaining her actions. "The truth is, I wanted to prove it to myself that I could do it—that I could move to another country and start a new life. Not that I’m off to the best start.” She sighed, imagining what her cynical mother would have to say about it.
He studied her thoughtfully, and her heart fluttered at an unsteady pace. It was the way he seemed to peer into her very soul. She shifted on the seat, worried he'd take the same perspective as her family and think she was impetuous. “I think that is verra admirable,” he said finally.
Relief seeped through her.
“A concussion and a hospital stay may no' be an ideal way to start, but do ye ever think…” He stopped, his gaze impossibly intense on her.
“Do I think what?” she was dying to know what he was going to say.
“I, well—”
Unless she was mistaken, strong, confident Lachlan was uncomfortable.
“What?” she nudged.
“Just that things happen for a reason.”
“You mean like us meeting?” She smiled, her pulse ticking up a notch.
His lips tugged sideways. “Aye, I suppose, but also ye ken, the expression, 'that which doesnae kill us, makes us stronger?' I mean ye survived probably the worst that Scotland will throw at ye, so the rest should be easy now, no?”
“Oh right, yes, I guess so.” Violet sobered, realizing he wasn't referring to their kismet meeting and the connection that buzzed excitedly through her veins—apparently, he was buzz-free. Maybe it was leftover meds in her system, making her pulse kick up like a woodpecker drumming for a mate in spring? She scoffed inwardly, knowing better.
Violet smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I originally intended to move to London. I’m planning to start a personal styling business, helping people with their wardrobes, and I thought London would be the spot. But somehow, Scotland kept calling. I wanted to be by the sea, and although London is a huge mecca, it just didn’t feel quite right. It was almost too busy. I wanted somewhere where I could find my own niche, you know?”
Lachlan could relate to that sentiment. He liked London and the larger cities in Scotland, but he much preferred the pace in the Highlands of Scotland. "Aye, that makes sense. Ye could probably have a monopoly on the styling market all the way out here.”
“Exactly.” She lit up, excited that he understood.
“I also love being outdoors, hiking, and that sort of thing. I'm not really a big city type girl,” she pulled her long blond hair absently over one shoulder. “Scotland feels like to be the right fit.
Lachlan looked at her thoughtfully. "So ye would work with clients on their business attire. That sort of thing.”
“Exactly. People who want to find their sense of style or need to build up a workplace wardrobe. I’m also planning to reach out to branding photographers to collaborate. I could style their clients, and they could do branding shoots for me. Well, once I have some, that is.”
“That’s a clever plan. Were you a personal stylist in Canada too?”
Violet appreciated his vote of confidence. It was nice to be able to share her ideas with him. She'd gotten used to all the nay-saying. Lachlan's reaction was refreshing.
“No,” she huffed and picked up a sugar packet that was sitting on the table and fiddled with it between her fingers. “I had a soul-sucking job at a law office for the past four years. I was the assistant to one of the law partners at the firm. He was fine, and the job was fine. And I know I should be grateful to have landed the position, but I honestly hated it.” She glanced up at Lachlan, who watched her impassively.
“I knew I needed to make a change, so eight months ago, I began an online styling diploma program. I always loved fashion, so it felt like something I’d enjoy. The plan was to get some credentials and start a new life in London, but then Scotland kept calling, and apparently, I listened.” She grinned. “So here I am.”
Violet’s parents tried to discourage her, not because they wanted her to stay per se, but because they thought she was crazy to try and start a career in a foreign country she’d never even been to. They couldn’t understand why she wasn’t content to stay at the law firm. Then her mom tried for the umpteenth time to rope Violet into her latest MLM. There was no way she would ever follow in her footsteps with those kind of companies.
Violet loved her family, but she knew that she needed to do this—to at least try to live the life of her dreams. She surprised herself opening up to Lachlan. She wondered if it was because this was probably the first real conversation she’d had since arriving here.
Hearing her reasons for coming to Scotland, would he think she was irresponsible and reckless like her family did? She shouldn’t care what he would think of her, but somehow, she did. He’d come to her rescue last night, and now, he was helping her again by staying with her. She didn’t want him thinking poorly of her.
“I admire ye, lass, fer following yer dreams. People talk about their dreams, but very few take the steps toward them. It takes courage.”
Violet felt her shoulders drop as the tension began to melt away. Again, she was surprised by his response. God, where did this guy come from? Definite relationship material. Not that she was looking, per se. She was in Scotland to follow her dreams—dating wasn't even on her radar.“My family would not agree with you, but I appreciate your perspective. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m crazy, but you only live once, right?”
Lachlan stared at her as if her words had struck him. “Ye call it crazy, but I think it's incredible. Most people dinnae ken what they want. Life just happens to them, and I think most of us dinnae even notice the direction it is going in.”
Violet had the sneaking suspicion he was referring to himself and not just people in general.
His gaze was drawn out the window at the sea. “Ye make me wonder about my own life. I used to think I ken what I wanted.”
“You're not sure?” she asked gently, noting he seemed to be grappling with something.
“I dinnae think I am. No.” He scraped a hand over his jaw, and she let him be with his thoughts. “Ye are givin' me pause, Violet Munro.”
She almost shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. The way he rolled the R . Her name had never sounded so good.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked.
He turned back to her and smiled lightly. “Aye, lass, it is. Ye are a dreamer, and ye are reminding me how important it is to dream.”
Violet was taken aback. It made her heart happy to know she might be pushing the needle for her knight. He’d done so much for her. She was glad if she’d inadvertently done something to help him.
Despite having a slight headache, Violet was having such a good time with Lachlan. As they waited for their breakfast, he told her more about the town and surrounding county. His love for his homeland made her all the more happy to be there.